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Sandra and Bob found Director Frank and ever-faithful Jan in the auditorium. Frank sat in the front row with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Jan sat a few seats over from him, staring down at her candle, which was dripping hot wax onto her hands. It was a dismal scene. “Thanks for helping me look for my kid,” Sandra said, and then instantly regretted it. Sarcasm never helped anything.
Neither of them acknowledged her presence. Had Bob made her invisible too? She looked at him for guidance, but he offered none.
She cleared her throat. Frank raised his eyes without raising his head. “Sorry about Peter.” He paused, leaving her to wonder if he was going to say more. He did, finally. “This is a small theater, and Billy is looking. If he can be found, Billy will find him.”
“What do you mean if he can be found?” Sandra asked.
Frank didn’t answer.
“He means that he thinks the kid is already dead,” Jan said, clearly believing the idea was preposterous.
Frank’s head finally snapped up, and he shot eye-daggers toward his stage manager. Sandra wondered how many plays they’d done together. At least a hundred? “That is not what I meant, and don’t put words in my mouth.”
“You don’t think he’s in danger?” Sandra said to Jan.
She made a contemptuous pfft sound. “I told you what I think. The kid is probably hiding. Where’s the girl? They’re probably in the dark somewhere playing footsies.”
Sandra stared at her. Just how old was Jan, anyway? “Corina,” Sandra said slowly, “is in the green room with her mother, hiding, scared for her life, and worried sick about her friend Peter. How can you possibly be so sure that Peter hasn’t been harmed, when there’s a murder victim lying on the basement floor?”
“I’m not even sure she is a murder victim. I think the floozy fell down the stairs.”
Sandra had difficulty not snickering at the word floozy.
“Let’s not speak ill of the dead,” Frank said. “Treasure had her attributes.” Did he even believe himself?
“Yeah. Two of them,” Jan said, pointing to her chest with both hands. Then she chuckled at her own joke.
Sandra wasn’t sure what to make of it. She’d known Jan was grouchy, but this was something more. This was sociopathic behavior. “Are you just in denial?”
Jan grimaced, but Frank piped up, “I think that’s it!” His eyes widened in excitement. “Thank you for figuring that out, Susan—”
“It’s Sandra.”
“Sorry, Sandra, I’ve been wondering what’s wrong with her, even going so far as to be suspicious of her. That’s why I’ve been sitting here, not out looking for your son. I thought if I kept her in my sights, the only person she could kill would be me. But I think you’re assessment is more accurate. She is in denial. She’s refusing to accept that this could happen or that it could happen here—”
“Stop psychoanalyzing me!” Jan bounded out of her chair and whirled to face him. “I am not in denial of anything!” She began to storm out of the room, and Sandra was keen to stop her. A suspect having no control over their emotions had to be a tactical advantage, didn’t it?
“Jan, wait!”
Jan paused her stomping, but didn’t turn back.
“Have either of you seen Treasure’s cell phone?”
Bob gasped, and Sandra tried to ignore him. If he wanted to take over the questioning, he could do so at any time.
“No,” Jan said, and started for the door again.
“Will you help me look?” Sandra asked, having no reason to ask it, but desperate to say something, anything, to keep Jan engaged.
She finally turned around. “Why would you want my help?” She looked at Frank. “He just accused me of murder. He’s known me for forty years, and he just accused me of murder.”
Sandra thought that detail was telling. She took a step toward Jan. “Jan, I think everyone is suspicious of everyone right now. I know it’s hard, but don’t be offended. And I don’t know how, but I know you didn’t kill Treasure.” She knew no such thing, but it sounded good.
Jan’s expression softened. It wasn’t soft yet, but it was no longer flint. “What do you want with Treasure’s phone?”
“I don’t want anything with it, but I think it’s suspicious that it’s not on or near her body. So, maybe the murderer took it. Maybe if we find the phone, it will help us find the murderer.”
“I’ll help you look,” Jan said decidedly.
“We’ve already checked the prop room!” Bob said quickly.
It took Sandra a second to realize why that was a fact worth spouting. Oh right. “We’ve already checked the prop room and the green room. It’s not in either of those places.” Sandra watched Jan walk away, unable to think of another way to stop her.
“I’ll go help her look,” Frank said, sans enthusiasm. He stood slowly, as if it hurt to do so, and then, head held high, shuffled away.
Sandra looked at Bob. “I don’t think either of them did it. Peter said a man dragged him—”
“Jan smells a little manly.”
“But is she hairy?” Sandra hadn’t meant the question to be funny, but at the sound of it, she laughed. Bob didn’t. “And I don’t think Frank could drag Peter anywhere. He just had trouble getting out of his chair.”
“I agree with you on that, but I’m still suspicious of Jan. Maybe there’s more than one killer.”
Sandra groaned. “Oh please, don’t say that.”
“Or maybe Jan killed Treasure and then got someone else to help kidnap Peter.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense. Who would help Jan? And why are you so stuck on Jan as the killer?”
He shrugged. “I don’t like her.”
“Angels are allowed to dislike people?”
Bob belted out a laugh. “Oh, of course. Don’t be ridiculous.” He started for the door. “Come on, let’s follow them.”
“But we still have to talk to Otis and Billy. Shouldn’t we go look for them?”
“We’ll do both.”